“I am heading to Mayapur tomorrow.”

“Why?”

“To submerge the ashes of my deceased father in the Ganges.”

“When did that happen?….” He stopped. His expression grew grave.

“Ten days ago. I had informed your secretary when my father was on his death bed. Didn’t he convey you?” I looked around. Vraj, the secretary, wasn’t accompanying him.

“No,” he replied. I saw he felt sorry. “I shall get back to you,” he said, and hurried into his car. The vehicle disappeared into the exhaust fumes of Mumbai traffic.

Later, Vraj came searching for me, and related what transpired after Radhanath Swami boarded his vehicle an hour ago. Radhanath Swami had called back to the temple to inquire from Vraj of the lost information. Vraj replied that updates about my father were duly sms-ed well on time. Radhanath Swami then searched all the sms he had received in the past ten days, but this sms was nowhere in the inbox! The two concluded that it was lost in the outage that had hit mobile networks ten days ago.

Radhanath Swami, Vraj said, now wanted me to give him a call.

“I am sorry. The message somehow didn’t reach me,” I heard Radhanath Swami’s apologetic voice on the phone. “If I knew, I would have given a call to your father as he lay on his death bed, and chanted Hare Krishna to him,” he continued. “But don’t worry. Right now I am chanting for your father on my prayer beads. And in my mind I am submerging his ashes in the holy Ganges.”

Two decades ago, my father felt a little pained thinking he lost his only son to the monastic order. Little did he know he had gained a second son, a pure soul who would be the first to submerge his ashes in the Ganges for his assured salvation.

–Shailesh 

Taking a walk through the ashram corridors–for no particular reason–I  met Radhanath Swami on the way. In reflex I struck a conversation—a long premeditated one.

“I have been unable to follow one of your instructions,” I effused.

“What is that?”

“Seven years ago when I had joined the ashram you had instructed me to keep sanctified food and water in the bird feeder every day.” I was referring to the bird feeder in the garden; Vrindavan Forest, the garden in our ashram backyard, serves as an oasis for birds of downtown Mumbai. “I haven’t been able to follow that instruction, sometimes circumstantially and sometimes due to personal negligence.” By now tears of sincerity were brimming in my eyes—and my greedy mind began to anticipate a sympathetic embrace from Radhanath Swami, the warmth of which I had experienced innumerable times.

Surprisingly, he remained stoic through my ramble. “You should do it,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone and walked away.

It was unlike his kind demeanor, for he wanted to teach me a lesson: determined perseverance in following instructions is essential for spiritual progress, while sneak-out excuses are detrimental.

Months later when Radhanath Swami’s Autobiography The Journey Home was published, a passage in it struck me:

It is said that a saintly personality can be softer than a rose or harder than a thunderbolt. This morning, one guest made excuse after excuse to defend his immoralities and spiritual weaknesses. Srila Prabhupada listened, then his voice rose like thunder, “If you are weak, rectify it. If you have no determination, you have no character. What makes you different from an animal?” The man shrunk like a punctured balloon. Bowing down, he promised to do what he knew was right. When required, Srila Prabhupada could be very strict to emphasize the urgency of a person’s predicament. Like a scalpel in the hands of an expert surgeon, his strong words cut only to heal. Or as he himself explained, “A spiritual teacher is required to have the courage of a British General and the heart of a Bengali mother.”

Gajanan Bhat

I requested a friend, a very famous Radio Jockey, to have Radhanath Swami as a featured guest on his show. He felt it was an honor.  We fixed the date 3 August 2009 for the interview.

When August came closer I realized that the interview date lay amidst a cramped schedule: on 1^st August Radhanath Swami was to arrive in Mumbai where thousands awaited his audience; on the 2^nd was the Sunday Program at Radhagopinath temple where he was scheduled to discourse; and then on, he would be busy with the upcoming grand India Book Launch of The Journey Home that was to be held only days later. Thus 3^rd August, the day fixed for the radio show—had got crushed in the middle.  I grew tense.  Pulling Radhanath Swami out of his busy schedule for the Radio Show was to cause him strain—and I hated to do that.

Perhaps he sensed my tension. And his soft heart raced for every opportunity to relieve me of that. On 2^nd, I visited him with a proposal: was it okay if the RJ came to his room to interview him, rather than he having to go to the studio? After thinking for a while, he responded, “It will be better if you could liberate me from this place.”  Through that one line he liberated me from my thought that going to the studio caused him inconvenience. It was decided that we would stick to our schedule and drive to the studio the next day.

The next day as we rode, the car was heated up with discussions about the upcoming book launch. I was silent, while remorse lingered in my heart. He is already strained. Perhaps I should have rescheduled the show in a way that didn’t cause him extra strain. Out of the blue, Radhanath Swami quipped, “And towards the end of the book launch, Sankirtan shall perform solo dance with spotlights focused on him.” His body rocked in laughter, as everyone in the car joined him in the joke; all knew how shy I was. Seeing him laugh, I was elated. Thus in a moment, Radhanath Swami had the remorse in me ebb away.

–Sankirtan Das

Shila loved Bhakti Yoga, and I was her spiritual guide. Lately, inspired by Radhanath Swami’s life and teachings, she had expressed her desire to accept formal vows of initiation from him. Since I knew Radhanath Swami well, I had dutifully forwarded her photo and her request-letter to him. Now in the Himalayan town of Hrishikesh, Radhanath Swami was reviewing the thousands of initiation requests he had received, for as soon as he returned to Mumbai he planned to award initiations. Sitting alone in Baroda, my soul cried thinking of Shila’s unfulfilled desire.

Caught-up in pressing responsibilities at Baroda, I knew I couldn’t make it even to Shila’s funeral ceremony. Hurriedly I called a few acquaintances in Mumbai to ensure her last rites went as per the Vedic protocol, for her better afterlife.

Two weeks later I returned to Mumbai. One day as I conversed with Gaur Gopal Prabhu, a close associate of Radhanath Swami, the topic came to Shila. He exclaimed, “Yes! Shila! While we were at Hrishikesh, Radhanath Swami put her photo on the altar and requested all of us to sing Kirtan for the benefit of her departed soul.” I was cast into mixed emotions of joy and wonder.

How unfathomable is Lord Krishna’s affection for his devotees! One acquaintance in Mumbai I earlier called from Baroda had rung Gaur Gopal Prabhu in Hrishikesh to ask details of authentic funeral rites. Later that day Gaur Gopal prabhu mentioned in passing to Radhanath Swami that a lady named Shila who aspired initiation from him had departed. Radhanath Swami frantically searched for Shila’s photo from the trunk-load of initiation requests he had received, and arranged for a Kirtan in her memory. And in that kirtan Radhanath Swami poured out his affection for his disciple—whom he had never accepted formally, nor met personally.

–Dr. Bhaskar Hosangadi

As we walked around Govardhan Hill, a 21 Km trek, we sang kirtan. Radhanath Swami danced all the way. Stopping at holy spots, bathing at holy kunds, it took us sixteen hours to complete the circumambulation: from 6:30 a.m. to 10:30 p.m.  Whatever meager luggage we carried grew in weight with every kilometer, and each tried to push it on to another’s shoulder. “You please carry my luggage. Please…..”

A year later, we visited Vrindavan with Radhanath Swami for the second time and went on a circumambulation of Govardhan once again. This time we found ourselves less inclined to push our luggage on to others.

And on our third visit to Vrindavan, the mantra during the circumambulation had changed to, “Please allow me to carry your luggage. Please….”

Who can deny the transformative potency of spirituality?

–Vishakha Priya